A Newcomer and Crushed Dreams: Thanksgiving Shenanigans
by 1dchouseman
Summary: The Constitutionalist, slayerdemons1, and 1dchouseman bring you a one-shot Thanksgiving special starring the cast of A Newcomer and the Legend of Rift. Like the Pilgrims before him, Alex and the dragons feast to celebrate Thanksgiving, but the day becomes an eventful one, as hilarity ensues.


Disclaimer: Cynder is property of whoever the hell owns the Spyro Franchise at this moment.

OC Disclaimer: Alex, Mera, Ferrosa, and the storyline of A Newcomer: Book 1 belongs to The Constitutionalist.

OC Disclaimer: Silver belongs to slayerdemons1.

Although this story references A Newcomer and Crushed Dreams, this is it's own spin-off and, as such, is not consistent with future chapters.

Linkage: The Constitutionalist's story, A Newcomer: Book 1, is the original storyline, as Crushed Dreams is A Newcomer: Book 1, but from Rift's perspective. I'd recommend reading A Newcomer: Book 1 for the whole experience.

Thanks to The Constitutionalist for not only beta reading this story, but making sure it stays consistent with his.

This one-shot follows the perspective of multiple characters.

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><p>City of Warfang, 6:00 a.m., Rift's room, Rift's POV.<p>

Knock! Knock!

'Mhn, Just ignore it, it's bound to go away.'

Knock! Knock!

"Grr, who the hell is even awake at this time?"

Still groggy, I stood up, giving myself a minute to let my head rush pass. I stumbled to the door and angrily opened the wood barrier. "Alright, you got two seconds to explain before I burn your face of… Oh, Alex, what brings you here?" I was surprised to see Alex, even more so, not wearing his MBA suit, just the clothes the moles made him.

"Well, I was hoping you could help me. Today is Thanksgiving in my world and I need some help getting the food ready. I'm inviting you, and the dragoness' to my place for a small feast." "Sounds good, what do you need?" "I can make most of the food, but I still need a turkey, think you can catch one." "Sure, cooked, or raw?"

Alex gasped at me. "What, did I say something wrong?" "No, you're just the first dragon that seems to know about cooking meat." "Alex, I'm a fire dragon. Setting things on fire is my job." "True, though the ladies will think it's strange, they eat meat raw… and that came out wrong." I laughed as Alex walked away, facepalming at his own unintentional joke.

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><p>Warfang Outskirts, 10:00 a.m., Rift's POV<p>

*pant* "Fucking" *pant* "Turkeys"

I had spent the last few hours chasing the perfect turkey. Everytime I had gotten close to it, the damn thing ran in a different direction, laughing at my failure, one gobble at a time. Luckily, I had him cornered against a cliff face. I smirked, and I swore the turkey gulped, right as I lunged for it. Fate, however, had different plans. The turkey jumped over me, distracting me just long enough for me to smash into the cliff. Furiously rubbing my forehead, I picked myself off the ground to see the damn turkey, staring at me, gobbling the whole time. In my moment of pain and anger, I shot a small burst of fire at the turkey, effectively vaporizing it.

I laughed, not the happy kind, more the 'I can either laugh at my luck, or cry.' I walked to the spot the turkey had stood, a small hole in the ground in it's place. I took a deep breath and stuffed my muzzle in the hole as to mask my screams of anger at wasting hours on a turkey, just to incinerate it.

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><p>Warfang, Noon, Warfang Park, Third-person perspective<p>

Silver sighed, sunshine reflecting off his silver scales as he basked in the heat. He could finally relax… or so he thought.

"Oh Silver!"

Turning his head to the voice, he saw the faint image of Ferrosa, stumbling drunk. He knew that meant trouble, as Ferossa tended to be a little too friendly when intoxicated.

"Aw shit!"

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><p>Warfang, 2:00 p.m., Alex's Room, Third-Person Perspective<p>

Alex had been lucky to find most of the food he needed existed in the Dragon Realms. Most everything was done, the mashed potatoes, the butter rolls, even the fruit salad. All that was left was the stuffing Alex was currently making, and the turkey Rift had yet to deliver. As if on cue, Rift slammed the door open, and dropping a turkey on the table. Alex did a double-take, seeing Rift completely covered in mud. "Rift, wh...what happened?" "Fucking Turkeys."

Alex burst out in laughter, never seeing Rift in such a hilarious predicament. The muddy orange dragon snarled, and proceeded to walk out. "I'm going to the river, clean this shit off." "You gonna take a lifeguard with you? Wouldn't want the added mass to help sweep you away." "Fuck off!"

Alex recomposed himself and looked at the turkey. The feathers were plucked and it was completely gutted, but had one minor problem. Alex looked at the stuffing he had prepared. "I guess I should have told Rift to hold off on cooking it. I guess the stuffing is a no-go this year."

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><p>Warfang, 4:00 p.m., Outside Alex's Room, Third-Person Perspective<p>

"Really? He's that good?" Mera nodded, embarrassed that Cynder asked about her personal life. The conversation ended as a silver dragon ran up to them. "Please help me! Ferrosa got into the wine and is chasing me." Cynder and Mera agreed, the silver dragon giving them a nod of appreciation, before taking off.

Moments later, Ferrosa arrived. "Have you two seen my Silver-wilver?" Cynder and Mera laughed at the name, the latter pointing Ferrosa in the wrong direction.

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><p><strong>Warfang, 6:00 p.m., Alex's Room, Third-Person Perspective<strong>

Alex, Cynder, Mera, and Rift all sat around the human's table, plates all dished up.

Alex gave a cough, standing as he gave a speech. "In the beginning of my country's history, Pilgrims and Natives sat together in unity to feast. For a short time, both sides were at peace. To commemorate that, the United States citizens feast a great feast every year called Thanksgiving. I would like to do the same here, for you guys. Please, enjoy the food."

Rift thought about a small part of what Alex said, and asked him; "What did you mean by 'for a short time'?" Alex sighed, "In the 1800's, the United States went through a phase called 'Manifest Destiny,' the Idea that it should control everything… much like today. Anyways, the natives were forced out of homes and land, treating them as lesser beings. It wasn't until the late 1900's that the Natives were treated as equals, or more than normal citizens."

Rift looked at Alex; "You seem to have a problem with that." "It's the author, not me. The author feels that, as both Cherokee and Comanche, natives should be given equal rights, but without extra benefits." "I guess that makes sense… so where's Ferrosa?" "According to Mera, she's trying to seduce Silver."

Rift took another drink of what Alex called "Root Beer" (It's really easy and simple to make) while Alex and he smirked at Cynder and Mera, fighting over the pumpkin pie. Alex shook his head; "All they need is a Starbucks and they would so fit the American Woman stereotype.

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><p>So the Constitutionalist, slayerdemons1, and I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving<p>

**A/N:** So I should probably explain myself. I feel that there's a line between equal rights, and having more equal rights than others. I've lived most of my life in a town that seems to thrive on the local indian tribe. They built hotels, casinos, waterparks, and screwed the locals, and fellow tribe members over. I am the last in my family to have 'enough' Cherokee and/or Comanche to be considered indian and I feel that groups of people get to be 'more equal' than others. It needs to stop. For the United States to truly be equal, we need to have 'equal rights.'

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><p><strong>The Constitutionalist and I are open for OC Submission!<strong>

We are looking for people to submit their OC's for a massive war in our stories:A Newcomer: Book 1- The Legend of Spyro, andThe Legend of Rift Book 1: Crushed Dreams. Both of our stories intertwine with each other, an as such, your OC would appear in both. You will receive full credit for your characters. If you are interested, visitThe Constitutionalist's page for the OC Submission form.


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